


The Next Steps

by Areo_ian



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Character Death, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areo_ian/pseuds/Areo_ian
Summary: “You have cried. You have mourned. Three months. Three years. The rest of your life, he will be dead.” He stood, pulling her up to stand on her two feet. “What will you do next?”
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Celebration of Ruthless





	The Next Steps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ruthlesscupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruthlesscupcake/gifts).



The evenings turned into days and the days turned into nights. It felt like an endless cycle. A loop. Not the one she was used to. This loop was not the routine she cultivated in her household for decades. This loop was evil. It was harsh. It hurt. It stung. It burned. It was all wrong.

“How long has it been since he died?” She asked the guest in her room.

“Three months.”

She stared at the empty bed and breathed. But she couldn’t just breathe. Her chest jerked and heaved. Her eyes were on fire. Her throat caved in on itself, by trying to stifle her cries and having them erupt anyway.

Her guest stood in the doorway.

“I’m sick of being sad. I’m not sad. I’m happy. I’m supposed to be happy. I can’t be happy. My heart hurts so much.” She said between long gasps for air and piercing cries. “I have my family. I have… he left me with you all to take care of. I have to be strong and brave. Strong and brave!” Her fists bounced off her thighs and her knees angled to stand but her shoulders sunk back into the warmth of the cushion. “Shit. I can’t do this. I’m not strong. I was never brave. He was. I watched him and that mind of his. He was really somethin’. He could literally make somethin’ out of nothin’. I was only good for babies. Two beautiful babies was all I could give him. And a warm home to come to. Who am I kidding? I’m nothin’ without him.”

She was talking to the air; maybe to her thoughts or whatever little bit of rationality she had left. She wasn’t sure if her guest was still there or if they were listening. Her mind was free of inhibition.

“What will you do next?”

So her guest was still here.

“What day is it?” She asked. “How long has it been si-?”

“Panchy stop.” His hand rested on her shoulder as he knelt down in front of her.

“Oh Veggie. I’m in a loop. I feel like I’m malfunctioning. I can’t. I don’t. I just...”

“What will you do next?”

“Next? Next! What do you mean?! I just LOST MY HUSBAND!” Her voice pierced her own ears so sharply that she squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, her hand was in the air and his face was slowly returning to its previous position.

“Oh goodness Veggie! Vegeta, I’m so sorry!” She reached out for his face but he stopped her before she could touch him.

“You have cried. You have mourned. Three months. Three years. The rest of your life, Dr. Briefs will be dead.” He stood, pulling her up to stand on her two feet. “What will you do next?” 

With tears streaming out the corners over her eyes and lips quivering, he left her. Before fully leaving the room, he stopped next to Bulma in the doorway. Gently wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her out of the room.

“Vegeta! Let me go! Let me go! I have to go to her!” With all her might she punched his arm and clawed at his skin. The backs of her heels landed deep into his calf and foot. “Fucks sake Vegeta! She’s my mother! She needs me.” Her voice softened as he put her down. She spun around and met his response. 

He was silent, but his eyes said _She’s my mother too._ When he did speak, it was in a low but firm tone. One she knew all too well, though he used it sparingly. “No. She does not.” His words meant finality. Though everything in her wanted to fire back at him, she thought he could be right. He gently pulled her by the hand down the hall. She followed, but never stopped looking back at her parents bedroom door. Nothing Bulma did brought any spark back to her mom’s once illuminescent spirit. But then again, how distraught would she be if Vegeta died, permanently. 

“You can’t stop me from talking to her.” Bulma snatched her hand back and tucked her arms under her chest. Her sad eyes betrayed the harsh bite of her words. 

“I won’t. Give her time.” 

Too tired to fight and too sad to defend her pride, she gave up. With an arm around her waist and her head on his shoulder, they walked down the hall.

Panchy remained standing. Tears still fell. Her hands still where the closest person she had to a son left them. She wanted to sit. But her knees wouldn’t bend. She wanted to cry out. But her voice was quiet. She wanted to do something, but her mind was blank. 

_What will I do next? I don’t know what to do next._ She looked at the clock and realized it was dinner time. She wasn’t hungry. _But the kids might be. Oh, they have Bulma and the cooks. There’s no one else to cook for. They are growin’ so strong and so big. They can do so many things all by themselves. My Bubbie Bulla cooked that ham at Thanksgiving all with her eyes._ She didn’t feel the smile across her face and her hands clap in excitement. _Such a smart bright little gir-._ Her head tilted and her eyes narrowed to something on her desk. Shifting condolence cards and old photos off the table, she found a recent newspaper from halfway across the globe. She grabbed the phone from the desk and sat back on the couch.

“Yeah.” 

“Is that all you can say to your big sis?” Panchy responded with a trace of her former chippiness.

“Yeah.”

“Harleen Frances Quinzel-“

“Ughhh. Maybe _fuck off_ would sound better? _Humm_ sis?”

A silent battle danced through the phone line. Panchy sighed and moved to hang up.

“Wait! Wait. I’m sorry… I’m sorry to hear about Smokey.”

“Why do you, did you, always call him that?”

“Because he smokes. A lot. Like how many packs did he go through a day. Is that what did him in? Those cancer sticks would do it. Do ya know how much garbage they put in those things? Betta off walkin’ around here in a dark alley in yah finest pearls, than smokin’ those things.”

“They were fake.”

“Huh?”

“They weren’t real cigarettes. I made him stop when I was three months preg with Tights.” Panchy slid off her shoes, brought her knees to her chest and moved her free arm to secure them there.

“And how is my _favvvvorite_ niece?! Love that lil one. She’s got a real spark, I seent it when she was a baby.”

“I can’t figure out why you favor quiet Tights over Bulma. Now _she’s_ more like _you_.”

“Noooooo, Bulma is more like me now. Ty. Ty is like me. Well, how I used to be.”

Panchy out stretched an arm beside her to grab the newspaper from the side table. “Harley Quinn and The Joker split.”

Silence again danced between them. “I thought we were talkin about yah dead, chain-smokin’, excuse me, _fake_ chain-smokin’, idea stealin’, _dead_ husband. Why ya bringin’ up my shit?”

“What kind of big sister would I be if I didn’t check on you dear?”

“The same one that didn’t check on me before! And the same one that didn’t get me outta jail!”

“Just because you didn’t answer or call back doesn’t mean I didn’t check up on you. And you make your own decisions Harley. _That_ has always been clear.”

“Yea. Whateva. What of it! I’m single. Minglin’. Fuckin’! And fuckin’ who I want, when I want! Not that I wasn’t really doing that before. But it was just to piss off Puddin... The Joker. And it worked! Not so surprisingly well.”

Panchy could hear the self-satisfactory smirk across her sister’s face. “And what did you see in _him_?”

“Ok. We are not doing _THAT_! A little splash of twenty-eight or more toxic chemicals would make anyone a little fucked up in da head. What can I tell ya? The guy just did it for me. Fuckin ass-clown. Serves him right to be back in Arkham! And I’m free as a bird.” 

The sound light pats from the other side of the phone told Panchy her sister was fluttering around like a little girl. “Do you really feel free Harley?” 

A huff and the crunch of a metal spring was first to respond. “I mean, yeah? I miss him. Miss the shit we would get into. But, I got my own shit goin on. I got this new business. Got new clients. Been pickin’ off these ass hats before they can shoot me, run me over or blow me up. I got this _adorable_ new protégé. I got stuff to keep me busy, you know. Stuff to keep me goin’. Yeah, I got stuff... Oh! And Gotham isn’t ready for what I have NEXT! Bats better clench those tight ass checks and strap himself in for what I have in store! Yeah… I’m done bein’ sad.”

Panchy stared out the window into the night sky. “How do you stop being sad?”

“I never said I stopped. I’m just done with it. I _feel_ it. But I’m also sick of _feelin’_ sad. So I’m done.”

Switching her phone to the other ear and changing positions in her seat didn’t help her process what her sister meant. 

“ _Ughhh._ I can hear yah circuits fryin’. _Ahem_. See, in human psychology a person's assent to the reality of a situation, by recognizing a process or condition, while often a negative or uncomfortable situation, without attempting to change it or protest it, is called… acceptance. I have _accepted_ my situation without protest, well, without _much_ protest. And now I’m movin’ on to the next thing.”

“The next thing?” Her words were barely above a whisper. “Oh Harley, I don’t know what to do next! I don’t know if I can accept what has happened.”

“New dick will help.”

Panchy rolled her eyes as she wiped tears from them. “Believe me. It won’t. Bur…Smokey was the best there ever was. Well? Maybe not the best. But orgasms don’t make great sex.”

*Loud gasp*. “Oh no, Sis! Ya definitely need a new cock! STAT! Don’t ya own a nursin’ home or somethin’.”

A small laugh escaped her. “We fund a couple hospital wings.” Catching her reflection in her amora, she stood up and walked over to her full length mirror. “But I don’t want no old fogey. I’m still in my prime.”

“Yea, yea. I don’t know what super rich stuff ya been doin, but ya look great in the funeral pics. Ya tits were sittin higha than mine.”

From under her baggy sweater and her loose crop pants, she could make out her slim silhouette. But at the mention of the funeral, her chin sank into her chest. “Well, yeah. I am, was, a trophy wife.”

“Fucks sake sis, you’re more than a trophy wife. You’re more than a wife. More than a mom! More than a grandma! You’re an insanely rich bitch, who refuses to share with her sis. Speaking of, can ya send me three hundred, forty-one thousand dollars? Zeni? I think that’s what you call it. Anyway you’re a rich bitch, with a crazy bod and more life in her than any of these drugged out young shits out here! Find a young guy. Shit, rent a young guy, or gal. Fuck them. Have them fuck you. And enjoy your life sis. Life is too short to be sad.” 

“You really think I can get a younger guy?”

“Yeah. Ya money can.”

“I don’t want someone that wants my money. I want a part- oh goodness why am I even talking about this?!? My husband just died and I’m talking about sexing up some else!” Panchy paced the floor.

“Did he say don’t be with anyone else?”

“Who?”

“Smokey? Dummy.”

“No. He… he said ‘Don’t revive me. I lived. And I know you all will be fine without me.’ He touched my cheek and said ‘Keep smiling, my love.’ Then he took his last breath and he died. He just died, Harley. I’m gonna miss him so much.” Panchy dropped the phone and cried into her hands.

After a few minutes, Panchy eyes burned, even though her tears had dried up. Her puffy cheeks were sore and her throat felt raw.

“Hello? Sis ya still there?”

She fumbled around the pillows for the phone. “Yeah... sorry.”

“Did somethin’ happen? I went to make a sandwich.”

“I think I’m just gonna go to bed. Thanks Harley for lis-.”

“You’re almost there sis.”

“What?”

“Tights told me all about how ya kept cookin’ at all late hours and bringin’ it to his ‘lab’ the week after he died. Denial. And how ya fired half yah staff for stupid stuff. Anger. Then how ya begged Bulma to find a way to bring him back. Even though he explicitly requested not to be brought back, whateva that means. Like how can ya bring someone back from the dead. But anyway, that was the Bargainin’ stage. And now ya _deeeeep_ in Depression. Next… next is Acceptance. And new cock!”

“I don’t think I will ever fully accept that he’s gone.”

“We can’t change the past, but there’s a difference between movin’ on and lettin’ go. Don’t let go of the memories and the love ya had. But at some point, ya have ta move on. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, sis. But someday.”

Panchy was about to say something before she heard a loud explosion and gun shots from the other line. 

“Umm sis, Ima have to call ya back. A certain caped crusader is fuckin’ up my new place… Sweetie, go get Mama’s Bazooka!... Oh, and don’t tell Tights I told ya that we talked!”

The line went dead. She put the receiver on the hook and laid down on the couch. Pulling a heavy throw over her curled up body, she let the silence lull her into a deep sleep. Her dreams weren’t dreams, but more like echoes of memories. She remembered the first time Harley came into her life. The smallest and thinnest girl causing the most trouble. Even though she was many years younger than her, she took her under her wings and kept in touch after leaving the Nunnery. A photo of the two of them at her law school graduation passed in her mind. Then a photo one of them at her wedding. Another photo of Harley holding Tights and Tights holding Bulma after she was born, passed by. 

Memories of her bringing the same blanket she was wrapped up in, to his lab and her gently laying it over his shoulders accompanying it with a kiss on the cheek. A lifetime of kisses and warm embraces flooded her thoughts. Unconsciously, she pulled a long pillow to her chest to replace the small arm nestled tightly between hers in her memory. He was always in her embrace. She was always by his side. And together they built a company. A photo of them on the empty lot before it was their home and headquarters, flashed pass. A memory of her and their legion of lawyers sitting in their barely furnished main banquet hall drafting up documents to counter sue the Red Ribbon Army for copyright infringement, brought a small smile to her face. She remembered feeling helpful. She remembered feeling important. 

New memories emerged of her cooking family meals causing a wider smile to spread across her face. A dinner her and her girls brought to their missing father, who was tinkering in his lab. Breakfast for her and her husband, after their teenage girls went on with their adventures. A big lunch for Bulma and her friends. A small strawberry cake for Bulma after she broke up with Yamcha, again. Several unseasoned steaks for her new royal house guest. Conversations over tea and coffee with her new son-in-law. Breakfast for her, her husband, her daughter, her son-in-law, her grandson and her fussy, picky infant granddaughter. Tea and cake with Tights. A dinner her and Bulla brought to Bulma, who was tinkering in her lab. In taking care of her family, she felt important again. As long as everyone was fed they were happy and as long as they were happy everything would be ok. 

She awoke to the blinding sun. When she tried to cover her eyes, she found her hands and body arrested in the blanket. Moving out of the glare, placed her face first on the floor. _“Oof.”_ She rested her forehead on the floor and proceeded to repeat the action for several seconds. “Panchy. Get up. Everything is going to be OK.” Unraveling herself from her cocoon, she sat up on the floor and looked into the imaginary mirror in front of her. “Everything is going to be OK.”

After a long, hot shower she turned on her mobile phone, then got dressed. Ignoring the two hundred and seventy three voicemails and five hundred and twenty one text messages. She went to her banking app and sent three hundred, forty-one thousand dollars to Harley’s account with the message: “To moving on.” She got dressed in what she usually wore on Thursdays and headed to the family kitchen.

“Mom!”

“Nana!”

“Hey there.”

“Hey Mom. You OK?” Bulma put down the spatula and rested her hands on her Mother’s shoulders.

“Yes. Well no. Kinda, I guess.” Panchy raised a finger to her lip. Bulma looked at her Sister who shrugged in response. 

“I’m done with being sad. I will always miss your Father. I'm just ready to be happy again. I know it will take time but… oh dear… your eggs are burning.”

“Shit!” Bulma quickly moved the pan from the flame.

“When are they not burned?” Tights said to Bulla sitting on her lap. They both shared a laugh with Panchy.

“Oh shut up.”

“Here honey, why don’t you let me make breakfast.”

“No Mom, I can do it.”

“Yeah Mom, I can make something. Or we can have the cooks from the main kitchen make us something. Sit and rest.” Tights added.

“It’s alright dears. I don’t mind. Besides, I have been sitting for far too long.” In those brief seconds, Panchy had emptied the frying pan, cleared the counter top and had breakfast ingredients on the counter. 

“ _Oooo._ I know what you are making. You're making Pop Pop’s favorite omelet.” Bulla spoke up.

“Yep! Wanna help me make it?”

“Yeah!” Bulla hovered next to her grandmother to be eye level with her and watch her movements. 

The Sisters looked at each other and smiled, realizing their Mom was getting back to her old self. Bulma took a seat next to her Sister and woke up her tablet.

“Bulma, do we still have that suit against us for deforestation at our North City plant? Ok, now chop the anchovies into lil’ pieces. Be very careful with the knife.”

“Ummm, yeah why?”

“And who's handing it? Good. Now pour a little cream into the eggs while stirring it. Good.”

“Uhhh, Gievus.”

“Hmm. Can you be a dear and tell Nancy to set up a meeting with him tomorrow at Noon. An idea came to me, from an old case we had years ago. Ok, so now you gatta be patient, and let it cook.”

“Sure… I’ll email her now. Are you sure you are ready to be working again? It’s been _years_ since you were working cases.”

“Not yet sweetie, you have to let it cook. Gatta be patient. Honey, I was working cases years before you both were born. I’ll be fine.”

“ _Ughhh_! Nana, I hate waiting!”

“Yeah, I know sweetie. You get that from both your parents. Speaking of Vegeta, is he here? OK. Now we can pour in the rest of the ingredients!”

“No. He’s off training, again.”

“Oh shoot. I guess I’ll just have to wait till he gets back. And voila! The perfect omelette.” The thick omelette slid gracefully from the pan into the plate in Bulla’s hands.

“Wait for what Mom?” Bulma looked up from her tablet.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry.” 

“Um Mom?” Tights moved to stand next to her. “Who are you making that omelette for?”

Panchy felt nervous eyes on her. She looked at her daughters who returned concerned glares. Then she looked down at her granddaughter, who was staring at the omelette.

“Why, I made it for me?” A light chuckle filled the tense air. “Why do you think ya father loved it so much? He stole a bite from my plate!” The three women laughed heartily. “Bubbie, you have that one. I’ll make myself another one.”

“OK!” Bulla rushed over to her Aunt's now vacant seat.

“You girls want the usual? Tights dear, put another pot of coffee on. And start the water for the tea.”

Tights moved as she was instructed but glanced at her Sister.

“Do you girls wanna know where I got that recipe? I made it for your Aunt one morning when she was super hungover.”

Bulma dropped her tablet and quickly covered her daughters ears. “You mean Aunt H-A-R-L-E-Y? I thought we weren’t supposed to mention her.”

“Who’s Aunt Harley?” Bulla asked between bites.

“Oh that’s my youngest Sister, sweetie. I did ask-“

“Demand.” Tights cut in from the fridge.

“Request. That you not mention her because she was a bad influence on you girls.” Panchy continued, raising an eyebrow at Tights. “But she’s changing and I’m changing. And I think it’s about time we change that _request_.”

Both Sisters shared a confused look.

“Oh. Did I tell you girls about the time we robbed a supermarket?”

———

Over a month had passed and Panchy was in the courtyard tending to her favorite garden. Humming lightly she watered her fully bloomed yellow tulips. A whoosh and a light step brightened her previous dull smile.

“Veggie! I have been waiting for you to come back!” Her yellow frilly skirt swayed around her legs as she walked up to him.

Folding his arms across his chest, he stared in response. She cupped her hands round his bicep and led him to the main house. “Thank you Vegeta for your encouragement and your kind words. They were just what I needed to hear!”

_“Finally! It’s in. This new soil is so funny. I told him I don’t need any new, fancy soil. What the earth provides is just enough.” She wiped her brow and dusted off her hands._

_“It’s like addin’ silver to gold. Why improve what’s already good enough?” She stood on her feet and brushed dirt from her pants. ___

____

_“There. Mmm, maybe I planted them too close together. But if I move them now the-“_

____

_“IF YOU CAN STOP BABBLING FOR TWO MINUTES, I CAN FOCUS AND GET BACK TO TRAINING SO I CAN SAVE THIS MUD BALL OF A PLANET FROM SOME STUPID ANDROIDS!” Vegeta glowered at her then resumed his Katas._

____

_“Oh goodness,” Panchy covered her mouth with her hand. “I should give you your space to get back to training.”_

____

_“Hn.”_

____

_“Hmmm, let’s see… There!” She pointed to a cracked spot on the stone paveway a good distance away from where they were._

____

_“Excuse me.” He dropped his stance._

____

_“Over there. That’s your spot to get back to training.”_

____

_“Grrrrr.”_

____

_She walked up to him smiling with her hands clasped together against her cheek. “I already raised two children, one of which was very spoiled. I can most certainly deal with an adult sized version.”_

____

_“Tsh.”_

____

_“I wonder...after you save this planet, what will you do next?” She cupped his cheek in her hand, then walked over to pick up her tools and watering can. “I suggest you think about your future and fixin’ that arrogant attitude.” She smiled at him with big wide eyes as she walked into the main house. “I’ll be sure to add extra vegetables to your dinner tonight. A big strong boy like you needs them to become a big strong man... one day.”_

____

“Can’t believe it’s been eight years since then. Now look at you, a big strong man, father and husband.” She stood in front of him and patted his chest. “You are a Prince among men.”

____

A hint of a smile ghosted the corners of his lips.

____

“Vegeta. ‘Bout time you got back.” Raditz joined them in the main hall across from the family kitchen.

____

“Raditz dear. So good to see you! Have you brought my darlin’ grandbabies with you?”

____

“Nah. They are with the tutors. But, l’ll bring ‘em by this weekend.”

____

“Oh, that would be perfect. I’ll let you two talk.” Panchy left them in the hall and made her way towards the kitchen. Upon entering, she noticed a visitor she had never seen before with a pile of meat bones in front of him. _Mmm. Think I might have found what’s next. And if my daughters are any proof, these Saiyan men are sure up for a good time. Alright sis, here’s to somethin’ new_. “Why hello. You must be a friend of Vegeta’s. Are you hungry?”

____

“Yeah, he’s here. I had to bribe him to even get this close to you. He’s still pretty pissed.” Raditz walked casually next to Vegeta.

____

“Who the fuck cares? He’s been dead for years now and revived for several more. As long as he’s useful again, that’s all that matters.” Vegeta replied, stopping outside the kitchen.

____

“Ohhh I think he’s ganna be pretty useful. Just not in the way _you_ were thinking.” Raditz said over his shoulder while leaning back into the kitchen archway. Vegeta shoved him out the way and walked in. An uninhibited look of horror became set on his face as they watched Panchy feed Nappa a spoonful of peach pie.

____

“I’m not calling him Pop.” Raditz quietly commented as they watched her lick the spoon clean.

____

Birds around Capsule Corp leaped from their branches as an earth shaking yell disturbed their peace.

____

**Author's Note:**

> I understand grief works differently for different people. Panchy is always a light hearted, caring Mother to everyone. So grief for her, in a world where death never really stool, was more to bare than the lost it’s self. So her “bounce back” might seem too soon but for her it’s what she needed. I’m sure this probably self explanatory in the fic but just wanted to say it, to say that I do know people grieve differently.
> 
> Thank you Rogue_1102 for beta-ing.


End file.
